


Buttercats

by Angus_With_the_Green_Scarf



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Humanstuck, M/M, Swearing, animal cruelty, don't put butter on cats they would probably kill you, if you don't get all the butter off of the cat something could happen to their skin or their fur idk, john puts butter on a cat, karkat using colorful insults, that's not good, would it be considered animal cruelty?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-07 12:32:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3173842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angus_With_the_Green_Scarf/pseuds/Angus_With_the_Green_Scarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which John is an asshole and Karkat is somewhat patient, but mostly unforgiving. Who butters a cat, anyway?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. John, Are You Really That Much of An Idiot?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first fanfiction on Ao3; I hope you like it!

===> Be the WINDY BOY.

That is kind of a silly thing to say, considering you have never really been anyone else! Right now might not be the best time to be you, though, considering you just pulled off a huge prank and it was received badly. So badly, in fact, that you are surely in danger of being mortally wounded.

All you did was butter a cat!

Albeit the cat was one of your friend's favorite cats. Okay, she is his only cat, but he should not be this angry about it!! It was hilarious, and the cat isn't even mad! A little cold, maybe, but definitely not upset! The poor thing was so starved for attention that she purred and laid her ears back when you rubbed in the butter! You probably did her a favor, honestly. Now he has to wash her and pet her and all that stuff cats like so much!

"Egbert, I swear to God that if you ever decide to fuck with Felicia _ever_ again, I will rip out your intestines and strangle you with them. Do you remember when I told you all those years ago that you had a death wish?" He jerks a hand up, flicking water droplets at you and grumbling under his breath about needing bandages and aspirin.

That confirmed your thoughts. You are a dead man, it is you.

"You'd better fucking pray to whatever deities you can think of that you find a way to make this up to me, or by all that is sweet and holy I will punt kick your ass into the street and make a game out of throwing all of your shit at you. Fifty Shades of Homelessness by John Egbert, co-written and edited by Karkat Vantas. The author’s note will clearly state: This is a comedic and tragic retelling of Mr. Vantas being a very pissed-off pet owner with a permanent grudge. John Egbert, the infuriating imbecile, has been the only one thus far to galvanize so great a rage from Vantas that he may as well be part of a very elaborate Shakespearian joke; these jokes usually end in violent the death of all parties involved, and have been known to be mostly about phallic symbolism and crude humor (of which Egbert seems to be a fan). It should relieve the audience that Mr. Egbert died with a smile on his face, and Karkat Vantas’ cat has never been happier."

“Are you sure that’s not the epilogue or the book summary? That’s really long for an author’s note!” As soon as the angry flush creeps up your roommate’s neck, you know you should not have said that. To be honest, you kind of already knew that saying that would be a bad idea; however, you just noticed that he’s blocking your only way out.

Shit.

“Uhm,” You squeaked, just before he started talking.

“First of all, John, fuck you. Seriously, that wasn’t that point. Second of all, how dare you butter my cat. How dare you butter any cat? I bet I know what was going through your head, too. ‘Oh, haha, buttering a cat? That sounds _hysterical_! Wow, Karkat’s gonna be so mad! I need to bring my camera or something, because this is definitely a thing I need to capture on film and keep forever so I can show my grandkids who the real pranking master was!’”

“Well, you’re not wron-” You start, but he cuts you off.

“No, I’m not. I’m also not done.” If looks could kill, his glare would level an entire city. “Oil on any living animal’s skin isn’t good, unless they live underwater- Don’t give me that look, butter is made of fats and oils. If my cat develops seborrheic dermatitis because of your shit, I will never let you live it down and you will pay all of her medical expenses. ‘But Karkat, what is seb-o-whatsit?’ Good question, John. It’s a skin condition that makes skin flake up in yellowish scales, and the -itis part means it’s an inflammation. Which means what? The skin can become red and itchy or painful around the flaking.”

You open your mouth and he cuts you off again.

“‘But what does that have to do with butter?’ Well, you errant dickfucking shitstick,” That was a new one. “Out of the goodness of my heart and the currently in-tact state of your ears, I’ll tell you. The risk factors for this particular condition include _stress and oily skin_.”

“But she wasn’t-” The look he gives you stops you in your tracks. You had no idea that someone with such a fiery temper could give a look that frigid. The way his eyes have darkened alone makes your breath freeze in your lungs, but it’s his tone that has your heart stopping.

“Think, John. Were her ears back? Were her eyes wide open? Were her pupils tiny slits? Those are signs of acute stress, or distress. You stressed her out so much that she didn’t even move when you did that. If you don’t let me finish talking this time…” He takes a breath, letting it out slowly and rubbing at his face. “What you did… It’s animal cruelty. You could be arrested for traumatizing my cat. I know you thought it would be one of those harmless pranks, but sweet almighty taintchafing fuck, John. Look up what you’re doing before you do it. Do research if it has to do with a living being. Make **sure** there isn’t anything wrong with what you’re about to do. And you know what? If you'd asked to actually do something with my cat, I would've said no. Oh wait, you did. And guess what! I said no for a reason! What made you think putting butter on a living animal would be a good idea? Schrodinger's potentially hovering cat is _not a real thing_ , John! That wouldn't happen. _Ever_. The laws of physics are pretty clear about that!"

You wanted to let him know he was getting off-topic, but he's angry enough as it is; letting him blow off steam would probably be for the best. Besides, you actually like listening to him talk. He can go on for hours about one little thing, and it astonishes you how much he can tie into one topic. He could probably relate spiders and hot glue in a way that would only make sense if he says it. Maybe it's because of how much he reads- Shit, he's looking at you expectantly. He knows you weren't listening, so you may as well agree with whatever it is that he just said.

“Okay.” You almost wince visibly at how unsure you sound, but you give him a small smile and hope that you didn’t just agree to dig your own grave- not that you aren’t already doing that.

He smiles and it’s the most terrifying thing you have ever witnessed.

“You might need the rubber gloves. She hates water more than anything.”

Your name is John Egbert, and you’re almost certain you just agreed to wash a cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read all the way to the end, I applaud and thank you. This fic was actually inspired by a little exercise to get rid of writer's block! Given a few random words, you have to use them in a story. Buttercats was a word my friend made up, and was subsequently the only one I managed to remember. I was thinking about how funny it would be to butter a cat, because cats are hilarious, and my moirail thought of Karkat, to which my brain vied for a dumb pairing with dumb kids.  
> Hope you like it so far! If I remember, I'll probably continue this.


	2. Karkat's Too Tired for This

===> Be the ANGRY SALVADORIAN.

That's the dumbest thing you've heard in your entire existence. In actuality, it's not, but at the moment you could not care less. You're already yourself, and yourself is the biggest asshole you will ever know. Who would want to be you?

Not the point. The point is, judging by the grin stretched across his face, this blue-eyed pendejo just decided to ignore his "no pranks" promise. You want to punch him in the face, and you haven't even seen what he's done.

"Gooooooood morning, Karkat!" You're going to murder him.

"What the hell did I do to deserve this." You grumble, shutting your eyes and swatting at his face. "Get the fuck away from my bed, verga, I'm going back to sleep."

You can practically feel his grin get bigger.

"Karkaaaat! You have to get up!" You groan and squint at him.

"Why? What did you do, burn my romcoms?" He shakes his head, grin stretching wider. "Did you shred my essay?" Another head shake. "Did you mess with my cat again?" His smile drops and he shakes his head fervently. It’s good that you instilled the fear of God in him after your cat fiasco last week- which you're proud to say has left his skin littered with bite marks and scratches- but now you're out of ideas.

"Well," You say, mentally facepalming for going along with his shit. "What _did_ you do?" His grin grows impossibly wider and he starts bouncing out of your room, leaving you to heave yourself out of bed and-

You're going to kill him. It's 4 am. What the actual fuck.

“ _What the actual fuck, John._ ” You seethe, feeling a little more awake now that you’re irritated.

"Oh come on, it's not _that_ bad!" He rolls his eyes at you and has the wherewithal to grab your arm and drag you to the kitchen.

The smell of coffee hits you hard, and maybe you're not going to kill him. Maybe you’re just going to hurt him a little.

You sit down and take the mug he so graciously set out for you. The coffee warms your hands and flows in a scalding river down your throat. He must have set everything up a few minutes ago for the coffee to still be this hot.

Right, he's supposed to be showing you something.

“What did you drag me out of what could have been the best sleep I’ve gotten in weeks for, again?” So maybe you’re exaggerating- you never sleep all that well- but he deserves the guilt trip for waking you up so soon after going to sleep.

His smile just barely slips, then brightens. How is he so bright? It’s 4 am for fuck’s sake.

“I woke you up to give you this!” A brightly wrapped box is shoved in your face, and you blink dumbly as everything processes.

Something clicks and you actually do facepalm, after taking the present from him and putting it on the table.

“Are you telling me- me, the insomniac- that you _woke me up_ at the asscrack of dawn to give me a birthday present?” His face falls and he expels an awkward giggle that would make a hyena cringe.

“Yyyyeees? I mean- come on, Karkat, you never- you always look so-”

“Spit it out, Egbert, I don’t have all day.” The look he gives you makes you revise your statement. “I may have all day, but I don’t want to waste it listening to you try to say something that probably doesn’t even need to be said.”

He takes a deep breath and steels himself. You would laugh at the face he makes if you weren’t so pissed that he woke you up at _four in the goddamn morning_ for something related to your birthday.

“YounevercelebrateyourbirthdaysoIthoughtIwouldwakeyouupalittleearlytomakeyo-.”

You hold up your hand and down the rest of your coffee, breathing out a small sigh when it finishes burning its course down your throat.

“I’m gonna need you to repeat all of that at a speed normal human beings can understand. I just woke up, so just-” You rub at your face and take a steadying breath, convincing yourself that this is worth the rude awakening. “Say that again.”

“You never celebrate your birthday, and this is your 22nd birthday, so I wanted to make it special.”

You look at him, skeptical. His face oozes earnesty, and you sigh again, exasperated.

“And it couldn’t wait until a more godly hour of the day?”

“Aha, sorry. I just got really excited because I had that really cool present since basically February and I couldn’t wait to give it to you!” You really wish you could find the strength to hit him, but all you feel right now is exhaustion.

“If I open this stupid present, can I go back to bed?”

“You just had coffee! How are you going to sleep after all that caffeine?” The incredulous look on his face makes you snort into your mug, and you almost wish you brought your phone with you so you could snap a photo of it.

“Like a choleric baby. Answer my question before I change my mind about being awake and go right back to bed, making you wait six more hours for the unveiling of what will undoubtedly be some random bit of teen romance paraphernalia that you thought was funny.”

“Just open it!! I promise you can go back to sleep, but you have to open it first!” You know from experience that when he gets that look in his eye, he means business. He will annoy the living shit out of you until you either eviscerate him or do what he wants you to do.

It’s easier on your conscience and your criminal record to go along with him, so you grumble something that sounds oddly like “maldito idiota” and rip open the paper.

“Oh wow. I greatly underestimated your competence in picking presents. You got me a box. Thank you so much for this most coveted of gifts, John, I will pass it down for generations and weave tales of your valiant-”

“Shut the fuck up and open it already, you melodramatic ass!”

You do, and the snarky retort dies in your throat. Your jaw hits the floor and you take the book out, turning it over with shaky hands. You can't comprehend the _signed masterpiece_ that you hold.

“How did you- I- John what the hell did you have to- When?” You motion uselessly with the book, looking at him with a new sense of reverent disbelief.

“You know that thing I said I was doing on Valentine’s Day? This is that thing. I had to go all the way to Oregon to get it signed, but-”

Your hand covers his mouth and he makes an indignant noise, but you can feel him grinning when he sees the look on your face.

“You beautiful bastard.”

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and John is your new favorite person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! I'm sorry this took so long, but I was busy with school and just couldn't think of how to continue this. I actually wrote this chapter a while ago and left it in draft phase because I thought I hated it, but rereading it now makes me think I was probably just going for something else and got frustrated. I'll see if I can give you a chapter-length chapter within the next two weeks, yeah? (I might just edit this later to be longer and add John's account of Karkat's birthday. Or maybe give Karkat's account of the rest of the day!)  
> Spanish (provided by my lovely Salvadorian friend):  
> pendejo - asshole  
> maldito idiota - fucking idiot  
> verga - dick


End file.
